Kris Dreemurr sat on a bench, seemingly staring off into space. Their fluffy, brown hair covered their crimson eyes, which didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. Their hands remained in their lap, their fingers with chipped, black nail polish fidgeting and lacing with each other. The cool, autumn wind blew, rustling the golden-brown leaves that cling to the trees. A leaf fell on Kris’s head, which snapped them out of their trance. Kris took it off their head, dropping it on the ground.